Seasons of Love
by plutonianwrites
Summary: Blaine is a ghost whose contact with people has been limited ever since his death. Kurt is a vampire that is about to change that. Loosely based on Being Human, warnings for vague descriptions of Major Character Death, and mentions of a past Seblaine relationship.


**Author's Note**: So I've been writing this for a few months now, and even though I really want to finish this, I'm running out of steam. So, I've decided to post the first chapter, and hopefully people reactions will make me want to continue writing this. And also because I haven't posted anything in several months, and I need to do that. I'm working on a Drunk!Kurt ficlet, but I don't think that will be done for a while. Not while I don't know how to write drunk people.

Anyway, I hope you like it! It's loosely based on (I'm saying that for a lot of my fics lately) Being Human, but it's mostly just the whole ghost, vampire and werewolf thing. And then I went and added some Lost Girl elements to it, which aren't in this chapter but are in the second. Maybe if you're really nice to me I'll post that.

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><p><em>live <em>  
><em>Pronunciation: lɪv/  
>verb<br>1 [no object] remain alive  
>2 [no object, with adverbial] make one's home in a particular place or with a particular person<em>

Beginnings are strange.

When does life begin? When does _anything_ begin, really?

To answer _this_ question, the age-old question that is '_what is life?_' needs to be answered.

But nobody really knows the answer to _that_ question, and so the question above can be answered with only beliefs and speculation. Like religion, really.

Some people believe life begins when you are born. The romantics among us believe that life begins when you meet your soulmate. And others believe that life begins when a person truly feels like they are living.

And yet nobody contemplates life beginning when you die. It would be ridiculous to consider it, of course – life and death are separate things, one ends when another begins.

But what if they are wrong? What if the death are well and truly living – perhaps even more so than the breathing?

Let's take vampires. They eat, they sleep, they experience thoughts and feelings and they move about with ease. And yet they don't breathe. Are they living, or are they just walking corpses?

And then take ghosts. They too, like the vampires, were alive once. They don't eat, they don't sleep and they don't breathe, but this does not stop them from living. They experience new things, they have thoughts and feelings that make everybody else human – so why not then? If you die, _when_ you die, do you ever really stop living?

This is something Blaine Anderson had thought about since he had joined the very selective group that was the dead in the land of the living. He had had plenty of time to think about it – it had been three years since he died – and yet he had still not decided on an answer.

He came to the conclusion that he was neither dead nor living, stuck in the faint line between the two. He was, to his knowledge, the only one stuck between there and the afterlife, so how did he know he wasn't just some fluke? A glitch in the system?

He thought this for three years. Three years of absent wandering from place to place.

Until he met Kurt.

Kurt was like him in the sense that he too was considered to be classed under 'dead' – but on a completely opposite side of the spectrum. And Kurt gave him answers, gave him examples, and gave him life.

Because even when you are dead, you never stop _living_.

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><p>Blaine was sitting on a bench at Central Park, watching the life pass by him. People rushed past on their way to work, to school, or jogged along with the earphones plugged in. Several people walking their dogs passed by Blaine, and he suspected that one dog even barked at him. The street performers were already setting up, and some were already drawing in a crowd.<p>

Blaine sighed, content as one could get in the situation he was in. Of all the spots he occupied in New York, this was his favourite. There was no trace of could-have-beens, like at Times Square, or fond memories, like at that restaurant he went to on the day he moved to New York. He did have memories of this park, of spending time with loved ones walking over the bridge or having a picnic on the lush lawn, but there were so many of them, and yet while they were still held dear to Blaine, they were not as important as other memories.

"Hey!"

Blaine's trail of thought was broken by the sound of a high voice that was unusual, but no doubt male. Blaine looked up to see bright blue eyes and clothes that looked like they'd been taken out of the latest issue of Vogue. The man was handsome, with a strong profile and the tell-tale signs of someone who worked out often, like his broad shoulders and the hard muscles he could see through the tightness of the man's shirt.

The man couldn't have be talking at him, right? It would be ridiculous to even assume so, because Blaine had spent the last three years living as something – he wasn't sure what, but pop culture told him that he was probably a ghost – invisible to everybody but himself. And while he hoped that one day someone would finally see him, he never expected it to actually happen. It had always been a fantasy more than a reality, something he daydreamed about. So, he decided to ignore the man, because that was the easiest option.

"Hello? Man with the cute bow tie?" the man said again, and Blaine looked around. He was the only one wearing a bow tie in the area, so surely…

"Oh. You mean me." Blaine looked down awkwardly, embarrassed. The man smiled, sitting down next to Blaine as he did so. He gestured over to the distance as he said, "No, I meant that dapper old man over there with the same bow tie as you." Blaine's eyes followed the man's hand, his hand grabbing subconsciously onto his own bow tie. He frowned when he couldn't see anybody, and so turned back to the man to say, "What-"

"I was kidding," the man said with a sigh. He moved his satchel onto his lap and smiled at Blaine. Blaine's cheeks reddened, this experience was one misunderstanding after another, and the fact that he hadn't spoken to anyone in three years didn't help matters either. "Oh," he smiled back, looking down at his palms as he rubbed them together, "It's just… nobody's seen me before. Not like this, anyway. Since I've been," he cleared his throat, "Dead."

"And you've been dead for…?" Ah. Blaine was… he was okay with the whole dead thing. He'd accepted it, eventually. He had no other choice, being dead and all. But just because he accepted the fact that he was dead, that he knew he was dead, didn't mean he was comfortable with it. It was something he tolerated, perhaps. But really, he should never had said anything, because of this very reason.

He cleared his throat again, and decided that it would be easier to talk to this stranger about it - maybe he was a ghost too? Or at least one of those mediums or psychics. "Three years. I wasn't sure whether- is it a ghost thing, then?"

"I assume so. Not that I've met many ghosts." The man leant back into the bench, stopping himself when he noticed the water droplets on the back. He sat up straight again, far away from the water. Blaine looked up again as he watched this, and then asked, "How did you know I was one?"

"It's complicated," the man replied, his lips twitching upwards into a smirk as he said, "Would this be the part where I say something along the lines of 'I see dead people'?"

Blaine's own lips spread in an open-mouthed grin, joined by a light laugh. "Probably. So is it true?"

"Well I'm talking to you," Kurt deadpanned. Blaine blushed again, turning redder than before, and looked down. He mumbled, "Oh yeah, sorry. Stupid question."

"Don't worry." Blaine looked back up to see Kurt smirking at him.

"So, Mr Cute Bow Tie, are you sure nobody's ever seen you before?" The man wrapped an arm onto the back of the bench, clearly forgetting about the water droplets. It didn't seem to bother him, though, even though he was wearing what Blaine would consider to be a very expensive jacket. Blaine eyed it cautiously, and then glanced at Kurt. When he saw Kurt clearly staring at the jacket, he frowned slightly before saying, "Yes." He sighed, and was then suddenly unable to stop talking. "I felt like I was going insane. I've been yelling, screaming for years and nobody's heard me. And it's so lonely, and you're the first person I've spoken to in three years that has actually replied. I used to speak to Sebastian a lot, until he disappeared, and I could never find him again. But he never replied and it broke my heart every time. Sometimes I just wished he'd say something, and he never did, and then he left. So I just wandered around New York until, well, now. And, I'm sorry, I don't even know your name."

"No, it's okay. I'm Kurt," the man extended a hand. A young woman walking along the street looked at Kurt funnily, before shaking her head and walking on.

"Nice to meet you Kurt. I'm Blaine." Blaine tried to shake it, but his hand just went straight through Kurt's. Blaine looked down, this fact entirely new to him. And yet it was so obvious. He was ghost, and ghosts could walk through walls and such, why did he expect he'd be able to touch people? He stared at his hand hovering through Kurt's for a moment, before Kurt continued with, "Nice to meet you too, Blaine," as if he was sensing Blaine's distress, "And don't worry, I really don't mind you talking to me."

"Thank you," Blaine's smile turned into a grin.

"It's not a problem." Kurt moved his satchel to the side and crossed his legs.

"So are you a ghost too? Or are you actually psychic?" Blaine sat up, placing his own hands on his knees and leaning in slightly. Kurt let out a small laugh before saying, "No. I'm something different entirely."

Blaine leant in closer, his eyebrows raised slightly as he said, "Oh, you're being all mysterious. Would you like me to guess?"

Kurt leant in as well, to say, "Why not have a go?"

"Okay then." Blaine said, his already hushed voice dropping to a stage whisper, "With skin like that…" he arched an eyebrow and grinned, "Are you a vampire?"

"What?" the man jerked back, eyes wide. Several heads turned to look at the two of them, all of them frowning but going back to their lives afterwards. Seeing somebody who had a few screws loose wasn't unusual in New York, anyway.

"Oh Gosh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to insult you. It's just, your skin is really pale. But good pale. It suits you," Blaine blabbered, blushing profusely. He'd ruined it, he'd met a nice, friendly guy who could actually talk to, and he'd insulted him. This was probably why he'd never spoken to anyone before.

Kurt settled back down beside Blaine again, and smiled weakly at his new friend, "No, it's okay. It's just- a sensitive subject, that's all. You got it right, though. I didn't expect you to get it on first guess."

"I was joking. But… wow. Do you actually drink people's blood?" Blaine winced as he finished his sentence, knowing he was mentally digging himself a hole. He needed to reread A Gentleman's Guide to Simple Etiquette as soon as possible. Kurt flinched, and Blaine was convinced he'd broken some unspoken but widely known rule in supernatural etiquette, as well as human etiquette. "Well I try not to. I'm clean, have been for… quite a while now," Kurt told him.

"How long is 'quite a while'?" It's not that Blaine was being intentionally nosy, he just wanted to know how old Kurt was. He still knew that asking someone's age directly was incredibly rude, and maybe he subtly had lessened in the years that had passed between human contact, but he was making an attempt anyway. Blaine was trying, and therefore believed that nobody should criticise him.

"Well, I'm one hundred and three."

"One hundred and three?" Blaine raised his thick eyebrows, and sat back, "I'm only twenty-two. Or at least I was. I'm… twenty-five now. Wow. I'm nearly thirty." In that perspective, he'd missed so much. He and Sebastian - well, he - had planned to have a child by twenty-five, and then another by twenty-eight. He would have been a big Broadway star, playing the leading male roles and winning Tonys, with two darling children and a husband to go home to. There was going to be a daughter, Reilly, and a younger son, Milton. Milton would be Sebastian's biological child, and Reilly would be his. His husband - no longer fiancé; they would have had a spring wedding - would be a top-end lawyer bringing down mob bosses and number one criminals. Their life would have been perfect, and yet it had all been taken away by one taxi cab and a distressed Blaine in front of it.

Kurt sighed, unaware of the thoughts circling Blaine's head. "You're not missing much, honey. When I was thirty, there was a war on," Kurt put his hands on his crossed knee on top and continued, "Anyway, moving on from my depressing life, I came over here to talk to you because you looked ever so lonely. So, Mr Cute Bow Tie, tell me about yourself. And can I just say, of all the places to die, you got one of the best spots."

"I didn't die here."

"Oh. I just assumed- I've never met a ghost that's moved around before. If I may ask, where did you die?"

"One of the streets around NYU, I never really found out which." When he had awakened, he'd been too busy freaking out to realise where he was. He'd watched as his body was surrounded by onlookers, as Sebastian sobbed and wailed and the sight of Blaine's dead body, as the paramedics arrived finally and took Sebastian and his corpse away.

"How did you die?"

"A car accident. I was crossing the road, wasn't looking and… guess I never saw that taxi."

"A car accident? I suppose that's better than illness. Or being murdered."

"I would have liked old age though. Now I'm eternally young and it sucks. Life is about growing old, it's about experiences, and- I'm sorry. I forgot you're eternally young too. Unless you're not. Do vampires age?"

"I don't know. Christ, I'm not that old." Kurt sighed, looking away and pretending to look offended, but when he looked back at Blaine he was clearly trying to suppress a smile. Blaine smiled back, before saying, "You look good for your age."

"Thank you. It's amazing what a good skin care routine does. However, you said you've been stuck here three years? Do you know why?"

"No. I think I'm a glitch in the system, something like that."

"I could help you move on, if you like."

"Move on?"

"To Heaven. Paradise. Whatever you believe in. You're not stuck here permanently, you know. Something is keeping you here. I can help you find out what."

"Heaven…" Blaine trailed off. He'd never been one to think about the afterlife, but he had convinced himself that there was something to move on to.

"You would do that?" Blaine asked, "That would be amazing, Kurt. I could never thank you enough."

Kurt blushed. "It's my pleasure, really. My good deed for the year, I should think."

"Oh right."

"Well," Kurt glanced at his watch, "I've got to go now, but why don't you come with me? I'm only meeting with friends, I'm sure they wouldn't mind you joining us."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to intrude on you guys. I'm fine here."

"I came over here in the first place because you looked lonely. If you don't want to go, that's fine, but you should at least know you're not intruding." He stood up and held out his hand, for Blaine to take, "So are you coming?"

"Are your friends all vampires?"

"Oh God, no. Personally, I can't _stand_ vampires. There's a werewolf, a succubus, a land nymph and a witch."

"They actually exist? This is insane."

"Says the ghost. So are you going to actually meet these friends, or just sit out here imaging them?" And then to emphasise his question, Kurt waved his hand.

Blaine took it.


End file.
